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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28759872">Give Me Your Gluten-Free G(l)aze</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice'>queenhomeslice</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Prince and the Pastry Chef [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Bakery, Chubby Reader, Clarus Amicitia is a Troll, Curvy Reader, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Kissing, Pastry Chef Reader, embarrassing dads, fat reader, plus size reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:48:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,653</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28759872</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A Very Important Person visits The Curvy Croissant.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Noctis Lucis Caelum/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Prince and the Pastry Chef [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660027</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Give Me Your Gluten-Free G(l)aze</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You smile at your phone, reading the most recent text messages from Noctis. It’s forty-five minutes to close, and you’ve already had to post that you’ve sold out of your honey goat-cheese sourdough loaves. There are only a few brownies, croissants, and muffins left in the cabinet, along with several of the new gluten-free and vegan desserts that you’ve been trying your hand at. Citizens from around Insomnia have definitely given you a boost in sales once you announced the new items, so you’re more than happy to cater to specific dietary needs and restrictions.  </p><p>The door chimes, and you turn your phone face-down, not wanting any member of the public to witness the sappy text messages between you and the prince—for both his safety and yours.  </p><p> </p><p>However, you have a sneaking suspicion that the two men who have just wandered inside have some sort of idea about Noct’s private life.  </p><p> </p><p>You freeze, staring down those kind green eyes and that silver hair as they approach you, cane in hand; and the taller man behind him with piercing blue eyes and flowing council robes gives you a small smile as the king approaches the counter.  </p><p>“So,” says Regis. “This is the infamous bakery that’s been making waves across the Citadel staff lately.” </p><p>You swallow hard, bowing at the waist. “Welcome to The Curvy Croissant, your Majesty.” </p><p>Regis beams. “Noct has picked a good woman indeed, wouldn’t you say, Clarus?” He turns to his shield.  </p><p>Clarus grins. “The ability to bake is a fine skill, your Majesty.” </p><p>Regis nods, moving to the side to observe your glass display case. He licks his lips. “Well-- while we’re here, Clarus. We might as well get one of each.” </p><p>Clarus frowns, folding his arms. “Your diet, Majesty.” </p><p>“Bah,” Regis scoffs, waving his hand. “Diet schmiet. Stop trying to ruin an old man’s fun.” </p><p>Diet? You hadn’t realized the king needed to be on a special diet. You move to stand behind the case and open it, pulling on clear gloves so that you can point to your wares within. “These chocolate brownies at the top are vegan,” you say, pointing, “and these pecan blondies are gluten free. I’ve made some vegan sandwich bread at the bottom, there; and these almond croissants are gluten free.” You pause, letting the king and his shield take in all of your choices. “But um. If you have any certain request for a particular dessert, I am fairly certain I could adapt almost anything to fit your needs, your Majesty.”  </p><p>Regis says, “No,” at the same time Clarus says, “We’ll take two of each gluten-free and vegan pastry, plus the bread.” </p><p>Regis looks up at Clarus as you begin to pull boxes for their order. “Spoilsport,” says Regis. “I really wanted a muffin.” </p><p>“I would fail in my service if I weren’t also dedicated to your health, Regis,” Clarus says, softly, forgoing the use of formal title.  </p><p>Regis tuts but doesn’t fight his sworn protector, only moving to the counter to meet you at the register.  </p><p>“I could,” you say gently, “Uh. Split the muffin in half? Or in thirds?” </p><p>Regis’ eyes grow wide and he turns to look up at Clarus, pleading.  </p><p>The shield rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “And you wonder where your son gets it from,” he mutters. He looks at you. </p><p>“Ah, sorry! Just trying to help!” </p><p>Regis chuckles. “Truly loyal to the crown,” he says. “I appreciate it my dear. Perhaps another time, when your muffins are Amicitia-approved.” </p><p>“<em>Caelum-approved</em>,” Clarus says, smiling. “<em>I </em>can eat whatever I want.” He pauses. “In fact, let me take that blueberry muffin at the top, there.” </p><p>“Treason,” Regis mutters, but takes out his wallet anyway.  </p><p> </p><p>As you process the king’s payment, the door chimes. You look at the time at the clock above the door—thirty minutes to close. Peering around the king and his shield, you’re met with the stunned face of your—well, Noct’s your boyfriend, technically, isn’t he? The stunned face of your boyfriend. It’s such a wild thing to think, and the realization hits you out of nowhere like a ton of bricks. You stare at the prince like a chocobo in headlights.  </p><p>Noctis freezes, seeing your hand outstretched as you give Regis’ black card back to him, as well as the bulging sacks on the counter. He flicks his stormy blue eyes up to Clarus, then back at his dad. “What the hell?” he asks.  </p><p>Regis turns to take his credit card back from you and slides it into his pocket. “Good afternoon, my son. I thought it would be nice if I came to see what all the fuss is about.” </p><p>Noctis nervously looks over his shoulder for the press that always seems to be on his heels. “You can’t just waltz in here in broad daylight, Dad!” Noctis pouts and folds his arms. “I don’t want there to be any trouble for her.” </p><p>“I can fix that right now,” you say, wanting to reassure Noct. You slide around the counter and draw the key from your heavily-floured apron, sliding it into the lock and twisting. “There,” you say, flipping the sign to closed and turning with a self-satisfied smirk. “Closing early on account of royal business. No press or commoners allowed.” You pause, blushing. “Well, uh. Except for me, I guess.” </p><p>Noctis hums and relaxes a little. “You’re a pretty good exception.” </p><p>You giggle and blush. “Uh--thanks, Noct.” </p><p>Regis elbows Clarus in the ribs. “Oh my, Clarus. It seems your son was right.”  </p><p>Noctis whips his head. “What is Gladio saying? That big traitor, I’ll kick his ass!”  </p><p>You can’t help but grin even more. Noct’s face is the color of your red-velvet cupcakes as he stares at Clarus.  </p><p>The oldest Amicitia’s face twists into a shit-eating grin. “I’m afraid that’s confidential father and son business, your Highness.” </p><p>“Ugh,” Noctis groans, putting his face in his hands. “Why are you all so<em> embarrassing</em>?” </p><p>“Hey,” you say, stepping close to Noct and reaching to put a hand on his shoulder. You don’t miss the way goosebumps ripple over his arms and up to his ears at your touch. It’s a power trip that you’re still not used to. “Noct, it’s okay. You don’t have to be embarrassed about me.” </p><p>His head snaps up, blue eyes fierce and wide. “I’m not embarrassed <em>about</em> you. It’s just—I've never done this before, y’know,” he murmurs.  </p><p>“Ah, to be young and in love,” says Regis.  </p><p>“Dad,” Noctis grunts.  </p><p>“We’ve seen the bakery and met the young lady, Majesty. I think it’s time we head back.” Clarus puts his own hand on his own royal’s shoulder and speaks firmly.  </p><p>Regis nods in agreement. “Perhaps you’re right, old friend. I’m eager to taste test our purchases.” The king extends his hand, and you move to him, taking it and pumping it lightly. “It was a pleasure...Miss __________, was it?” His green eyes twinkle with affection.  </p><p>You nod, releasing his hand and bowing once more as you back away, closer to Noctis. “Yes, sir. Your Majesty. Um.” You clear your throat. “Thank you for your support. I hope you like everything. And uh. I’ll be sure to keep trying new gluten-free things for you.” </p><p>“If it’s not too much trouble,” says Regis, jerking his head towards Clarus. “I can’t eat <em>anything </em>with this old coot around.” </p><p>“Oh <em>hush</em>,” says Clarus fondly.  </p><p>You unlock the door to let them out, and then lock it again. With only ten minutes to close, you’re feeling pretty okay about tapping out early. You pull the door shade down and let out a long exhale.  </p><p>“Gods,” you say, looking at the prince. “You think your dad could warn a girl next time before he just waltzes in here like a normal person?” </p><p>Noctis shakes his head and his posture slumps. “He’s just<em> like </em>that,” the prince mutters. “Um. But.” He flicks his eyes away for a moment, and then back to yours, and then he moves, suddenly millimeters from your face. </p><p>You swallow down the fear and anxiety and take initiative, leaning up on tip-toes to press your lips to his. Noct whines a little and opens his mouth, prodding yours open with his tongue. You melt in his embrace like butter in bread dough, feeling both of those well-defined arms slide around your waist and pull you close as he kisses you with purpose. It’s raw, and a little messy, but after a few minutes the two of you fall into a steady rhythm.  </p><p> </p><p>When Noctis pulls away, his stormy blue eyes are wide, and he’s trembling. “Shit,” he says. “Uh. Wow, um. Wow.” </p><p>You clear your throat and nod, sliding your hands up his chest, settling them on top of his sharp collarbones. “You never fail to give me butterflies,” you mumble, feeling heat rise to your chubby cheeks. Kisses like that are still very rare between you and Noctis—the two of you aren’t even into the realm of heavy petting yet; but you can’t deny the way the prince makes you flush with arousal from the inside out. </p><p>“Me?” Noctis shakes his head, tucking one stray lock of hair behind your ear. “No, it’s...” </p><p> </p><p>But before Noctis can finish, there’s banging on the glass windows of your bakery—the two of you look out the far front window to see Regis’ face pressed to the glass. Behind him, Clarus is giving a <em>thumbs-up </em>with his one free hand.  </p><p>“Oh my <em>gods</em>,” Noctis whines, putting his face in his hands for the second time that day. He falls forward and buries his head in your neck, but all you can do is hold him and laugh. You shoot the king and his shield a <em>thumbs-up </em>in return, watching them meander down the street, making sure that you see them get into the sleek black car and pull away.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HI I FORGOT THIS EXISTED SO WELCOME BACK ME, I GUESS</p></blockquote></div></div>
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